This week, I had a patient that was having back surgery. She asked if we could just tack on a boob job because we were in a “regression” and she needed better “tools”. We were pretty sure she was a lot lizard, based on some statements she made. For those of you who might not know, a lot lizard is a truck stop hooker. Hmmmmm….
Anyway, Fletcher’s growing like a weed, I’m working all the time, and my husband gets antsy and thinks I have a boyfriend living in my closet if he doesn’t get “attention” for 72 hours. Apparently, 72 hours is all it takes for him to think I don’t love him anymore. Really? *sigh* Men. Can’t live with ’em, can’t…fill in the blank. It couldn’t be that I’m just tired and maybe want to sleep, could it?
Oh, Fletcher would like everyone to know that he adores snacky puffs. And church. He loves him some church.
We’d both be wrong! I love that line. I’m gonna use it often.
Now, my week. Crazy? I has it in spades. But the most pressing problem was how to get a babysitter for Saturday. I had one all lined up till the girl’s boyfriend and my husband got into a teenage girl fight. The guy was trying to break up with her. She wouldn’t give it up, he wanted it, he was going on to greener pastures, but (I assume) just in case, he wanted to keep her available so he could go back to her if necessary, etc. So, since she was crying in my living room, my husband told her to move on, there were other fish in the sea, ya-da, ya-da, ya-da. The guy calls my husband telling him he hates him, he’s never speaking to him again, he’ll make sure she never speaks to us again either, blah, blah, blah. Like I said, teenage girl clones, right? So she cancels on me, leaving me without a babysitter, and I’m on call, which it’s too late to get covered. I was afraid I was gonna have to lock him in the employee lounge for awhile. I asked everyone at work that I could think of that had teenagers who might want some extra money. I finally got in touch with my brother and his wife and they’re gonna watch Fletcher overnight and I’m meeting them at church Sunday morning. Did I mention how awesome my family is? Just in case, yeah, they are. Speaking of church, my child is becoming the class clown. Two Sundays ago, he stood up holding the back of the pew, looking around, put his mouth on the pew (Ugh!), and started blowing raspberries. Now, this would have been cute, but, not so much in this case, due to the vaulted ceilings. Naturally, it echoed, drawing the attention of the entire congregation. As everyone is snickering, the minister becomes aware that the attention of the crowd is not on him, and upon discerning the distraction, says loudly: “Well, I can’t compete with that!” I wanted to crawl under the pew. And stay there. *sigh*
Today, my husband drove all the way downtown to fix my car in the parking garage. I thought some gremlins had taken up residence, seeing as the headlight was out, the auto switch on my power window didn’t work, and the dome light wouldn’t come on anymore. He told me he held the auto button down for 10 seconds, flipped the dome light’s switch on, and replaced the bulb in the headlight. It took him 3ish minutes, he said. Oops! I complain about him here a lot, out of transient frustration, but he’s really a good guy. He came home with all sorts of Victoria’s Secret goodies last week! Lip gloss, lotion, powder, under-britches, the works. What a sweetie!
Hi, all, Fletcher here. I knows how to pants myself! Mommy doesn’t know quite how I do it, but I’m pantsless when she comes to get me! I like Wal-Mart, cause I’m a people watcher. Yep, got that from Daddy. I need a haircut, but Daddy hasn’t taken me yet! I went to Waffle House this morning, and I like waffles and syrup! Mommy says I like all food, but that’s beside the point. I got a new toy. Wanna see? Here:
Can anyone else spot what’s wrong in this picture? It helps if you know that the car in front of me is approximately the size of a roller skate. A ladies’ Size 5. This car has a couple of things wrong with it. For starters, it’s got 4 grown people in it, with 2 in the backseat with an occupied car seat. Where the hell are they hiding the diaper bag, stroller, everybody’s purses, etc? The other thing is the trailer hitch. What are they planning on towing, a baby wagon? It made me laugh aloud.
I used to love Christmas. I had my shopping done by Halloween, typically. I started my list for the next year by New Year’s, as a rule. These last couple of years have been insane, and we didn’t buy gifts for each other even, last year, and the year before that, we only bought for each other. We haven’t drug out the tree or any decorations in several years. It’s made me realize how much I really don’t like shopping anyways, and a lot easier, since I didn’t have to stress over what to get who, or how much I was spending. I think the reason I truly loved Christmas was because I like to give gifts more than receive them. And trust me, that’s saying something. So since we’ve been broke or birthing or both, I didn’t care about Christmas, cause I didn’t really feel like I was participating. Unless it was in a tongue in cheek fashion. Year before last, I told everyone they could come to my house and flush the toilet while I sang “Jingle Bells” outside the door for their present (This was due to some amazing Plumbing Pyrotechnics), and last year, everybody got a new baby for Christmas. I promised to sing Away in the Manger. Everybody wanted to hold the baby, but no takers on the singing. Hmmmm……anyway. I really used to get irritated with my husband because he thought it was all supposed to be about surprise, and, well, you’ve all met me. Sort of. I, um, don’t ‘do’ surprises. In fact, I hate them as a rule. Actually, I should qualify that. I don’t like surprises that dance in front of me i.e “I’ve got a secret, I’ve got a secret!!!” If it’s truly a surprise, and I don’t know it’s coming and it’s least expected, then they’re fine. Usually. Christmas, birthdays, and generally anytime gifts are assumed to be given fall into the former category. Until these last couple of years, anyway. I actually enjoyed just going to my respective grandparents’ houses and hanging out with my family, and just being. I kinda want to do that all the time now. Please don’t get me wrong. I totally get that it’s not all about the gifts, but it was always so much fun when I was a kid, especially after I got old enough to buy my own gifts for everyone. I don’t know. I’ve got mixed feelings about it this year. It’ll be fun watching Fletcher open his presents with everyone, of course. I feel guilty spending any money on anything, really, when we’re always strapped. But I’m not sure I want to be the one to bring it up. I also feel guilty about accepting gifts when we can’t reciprocate. Most likely my amazing, wonderful, stupendous, magnanimous (I really can’t think of enough $5 superlatives to describe them after this week) family doesn’t care at all anyway, but I can’t help it. Oh, apparently we are doing Halloween this year. My husband had money burning a hole in his pocket, evidently, and bought Fletcher a tiny green dinosaur costume. With a tail. *shakes head, all the while unable to keep this out:Open the door, get on the floor, everybody do the dinosaur* Pictures coming soon. My baby wore shoes for the first time today. I know it sounds odd, but when he was first born, we dressed him in footie pj’s everywhere he went, then it was spring/summer and he didn’t need them. He thought they were tasty, I assume:
Aka, “SMITE.” Currently, I’m lying sideways trying desperately not to set fire to (with my bodily temp) or throw up on the carpet, me, or Fletcher. I was fine this morning. I drank milk and everything. Suddenly at lunch, I didn’t have any appetite and started feeling achy. At first, I thought I’d picked up something the wrong way. Oh, no. It ballooned into full-on fever pitch by 1pm, and I left early from work, picked up Fletcher from the babysitter’s (and, yes, possibly doing irreparable damage, but I was low on options), and high-tailed it home to take some aspirin and a nap. 2 hrs later, still hadn’t gotten to sleep, due to aches and pains, baby starts crying, I get up, and suddenly have to run. Hence the lying sideways. Did I tell you about my family? Yeah, they’re almost all the most wonderful creatures on earth. My cousin is coming to sit with Fletcher while I try to nurse myself back to some version of a healthy me. No funny pics today. I’ve forgotten where I put them under all the buckets and OTC pain meds/fever reducers.
As in I has had one. A biiiiiiiiiggg one. Yesterday, I was on call for the full 24 hours. This call was assigned to me, and I couldn’t get rid of it, though I tried. YCU had to work. However, he was told (not asked) at 10pm Saturday night to come in 1.5 hours early on Sunday. Now, I’d had my mother all lined up to come and sit with me during the call hours that he would be working, but this was a real monkey wrench thrown into the works. So, I called Mom first thing Sunday morning on my way to work (naturally, I’d been called in) and left a message (she still doesn’t answer her phone, which is a whole ‘nother story) for her to call the YCU asap and for the two of them to work something out. She does, and HE TELLS HER NOT TO COME!!!!! She lives 1.5 hours away, which is the whole problem. I asked him just what the hell he was planning on doing with our child, hoping he stayed asleep and didn’t poop or need to eat till I got home? Then just pray I didn’t get called back in?!? WHO DOES THAT???? *long, loud screams of non-discernable obscenities* But, never fear, I happen to be in possession of the greatest family of all time, ever, to infinity. My brother raced over and picked Fletcher up, and took him to church with them, and as soon as I was released, I raced to church (In my scrubs, no less. Sorry, God!), picked up my progeny, and raced home, where my aunt met me and stayed till the YCU got off work (which was extreeeeeeeemely late. I told you, my family is amazing, wonderful, et al.)
Now, I have a funny picture:
when everything just seems off? Yeah. I’ve had several in a row. Friday, my last day at my old job, the skeevy old doctor asked me what it would take to get me away from my husband. *shudders* Ummm….not you? Monday, I arrived at the babysitter’s at 0615 to a dark house. *sigh* I called every number I had, and finally got the aunt of the babysitter’s husband to come to the door. Everyone had overslept, and it made me late. Tuesday, we went to my awards banquet on the General Jackson. I took my husband’s steak, and he ate my fish. He woke up at 0230 puking his guts up. This slowly progressed to toilet-to-which-orifice confusion, where we finally figured out he had a bad piece of fish. Some people wanted to blame a virus, but I’m not sick, and neither is Fletcher. However, I thought that he’d feel better by the morning, so I left the baby for him to drop off. He fought to not have to pull over the whole way there. Then, he still decided to try to have “Bro Night” when he’d been home all day sick, hadn’t cleaned up anything, and didn’t feel like cooking. Today, he called me at work to ask what size underwear I wore. WTF? Um, ok, why? There’s this big sale at the mall, and I thought you might need some was his answer. Yeah. Like that has no ulterior motives! *sigh* Then he springs on me that we’re having a couple over for dinner. Tonight. *ARRRGHHHH!!!!* So now, I have to clean the house in the next hour and start cornbread/potatoes. Why does he choose days when I just got off work to do this? Why? Why ask why? I leave you with this:
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